


Southern Fried Circuits

by NekoReecesPieces



Category: Overwatch (Video Game), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, First Meetings, Gen, Holoforms (Transformers), Post-Fall of Overwatch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:56:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27609323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NekoReecesPieces/pseuds/NekoReecesPieces
Summary: Originally written in 2017, may be picked back up or rewritten in the future.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	Southern Fried Circuits

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written in 2017, may be picked back up or rewritten in the future.

McCree stepped outside of the inn he was staying in. The Latino design and decor of it was welcoming and inviting, but he couldn't stay long. He had to keep moving.  
He ached. His body ached and groaned. He couldn't move too fast for fear his wounds would reopen. A fresh bullet wound above his left hip was evidence of the firefight he was in two months ago. He had to patch himself up, do his own stitches. He was on his own, no one to turn to. Overwatch was dead and gone. Where else could he go?  
An army Jeep was the first thing to meet McCree when he stepped outdoors, a stranger leaned up against it. "You Jesse McCree?" he asked.  
"Depends." McCree responded as he reached slowly for Peacekeeper. "Who wants to know?"  
"Someone who wants to help and doesn't want to hurt you." The stranger responded.  
McCree scoffed. "Likely story." He eyed the stranger, wondering where he came from and how he found him. The stranger looked similarly like McCree himself, although instead of wearing cowboy garb he wore aviator sunglasses, a dark army-green colored button-up shirt with the first two buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and blue jeans. A cowboy hat sat on top his head, and cowboy boots were his shoes. His hair was a slightly lighter shade than McCree's and, although it was cut in a similar style, it wasn't as fluffy and was straighter. The early morning sun rested on his dog tags. McCree tilted his head, considering. "You a military man?" he asked. The stranger shrugged, his smirk never faultering.  
"You can say that."  
McCree gave the stranger a hard look, searching to see if he had any weapons on him or near him in the Jeep. "You carrying?" he asked bluntly.  
"A weapon?" The stranger responded. "I am. A pistol. Not really in the position to carry anything else." McCree gave an almost questioning look. The stranger straightened up from leaning off the Jeep and walked a few steps forward toward McCree. "I have no intentions to use it on you, don't worry. You don't know me, I only know of you, but you seem like our best bet. And I think I might know a guy to help you with those stitches."  
McCree's eyes shot open from his steady gaze, grabbing Peacekeeper. "How'd you know about that?" The stranger shrugged again and rested his hands on his hips.  
"Call me perceptive. I came here for your help and I'm willing to find people to help you out too." He turned around and headed back to the Jeep.  
"What are ya going and why do you need my help for?" McCree asked, grip only slightly on Peacekeeper.  
The stranger opened the Jeep's door and got into the driver's seat. "Classified. Get in and tell ya." He stared at him through the windshield, tilting his head to watch McCree's reaction.  
McCree let out a deep breath and walked toward the passenger's side of the Jeep. "Give me strength, I hope I know what I'm doing." he muttered under his breath. The stranger just watched and took his cowboy hat off his head and tossed it on the floorboard behind the passenger's seat.


End file.
